


What If Kagami And Kuroko Were New Yorkers?

by fifthmoon



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Jobs, Alternate Universe - New York City Setting, Attempt at Humor, Chance Meetings, First Meetings, Humor, KagaKuro Week, KagaKuro Week 2015, M/M, Mentioned Himuro Tatsuya/Murasakibara Atsushi, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4963399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fifthmoon/pseuds/fifthmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>It was easy to wonder what small anomaly it would take to derail an entire routine. A derailment, Taiga thought, would be a welcome change. </p>
  <p>Enter the passenger whose appearance came with a promise of the change Taiga was looking for. </p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	What If Kagami And Kuroko Were New Yorkers?

The familiar chime alerting the doors closing. The clickety-clack of the wheels on electrified train tracks. The high-pitched squealing of the brakes. The rhythmic rocking of the train car. The flickering of tunnel lights outside the windows. The sound of rushing wind mixing with the drone of many conversations happening all at once. 

It was all hypnotic, and it was all routine. It was his commute. A commute that had become equal parts comforting and tiring. Equal parts interesting and bland. 

In the summer, the New York City Subway provided the feel of a hot box, with air barely circulating throughout a train car sardine-canned with people all experiencing heightened levels of discomfort and a potpourri of unpleasant smells that the heat brought with it. In winter, as it was now, when the train ascended above ground, the bitter, icy air burst through every tiny crevice of the car that wasn’t air-tight with a ghostly howl, challenging the heat that desperately pumped through the vents, and more often than not, the cold won out. 

Taiga Kagami was a big guy who ran hot—it was right there in his name, after all—so he would more willingly deal with the occasional cool chill that seeped in to nip at his nose any day over the devastating heat that caused his thin, cotton shirts to become soaked with sweat in a record number of seconds. 

Taiga was a bachelor and a basketball fanatic in his early thirties, blessed with the same muscular build and youthful energy that he had throughout his teen years. Introducing himself as an “export of Japan” was his regular, healthy attempt at humor, and while the entirety of New York had long been his oyster, he was in no hurry to settle down with just anyone, but was still quite open to the idea of meeting “the one.” Still, it was a bit of a challenge to find “the one” when his typical workday routine normally brought him straight home to crash, and then his precious time off he spent playing some street ball at his favorite court with is brother from another mother, Tatsuya. Occasionally, they would even catch the Knicks playing a home game at Madison Square Garden, but whatever they chose to do, they were never really in any ideal situation for meeting local singles—or so Taiga thought. 

For the past few weeks, he hadn’t even seen Tatsuya, and that was because Tatsuya had met a guy at this trendy, overpriced bakery Taiga had taken him to _once_. Apparently, once was all it took to be instantly enamored with the tall, long-haired pastry chef that somehow found it sanitary to only tie his lavender-colored hair up in a ponytail, and then also constantly sample his own sweets that he was making. Now his bro was far too occupied ever since he claimed that sweet-obsessed, purple tree of a human being as his lover. 

While Taiga hoped that once their honeymoon period gradually phased out, he would reclaim not only his bro but an additional basketball challenger (after all, the guy had to be, like, _seven_ feet tall, so his height alone should carry with it _some_ level of difficulty), it remained a sad fact that his free time was currently devoid of the closest thing he had to a wingman. Because of this, his routine had made a track-change, switching to an even duller route than the one he was traveling before, so now his life consisted of only work, home, and the long commute between the two. 

As a fireman who had been working at a department many, many blocks away from his apartment for years now, Taiga accepted the long commute to his job and back as just something he was used to. He accepted it as some extra time for thinking, or his favorite, listening to music with his new wireless headphones, or, if he had a seat, a good excuse to take a nap. Other times, he would simply find some entertainment in watching and listening to the people around him. Zeroing in on a particularly strange conversation, internally critiquing a fashion disaster of an outfit, or even playing audience to a Mariachi band passing through train cars could make for a more memorable ride, but all and all, day by day, things merged into something that could be considered rather normal. Not even the appearance of New York’s beloved Pizza Rat could save him from the redundancy of his daily commute. 

He deluded himself into thinking that he got all the excitement he needed from his job, that the dullness of his commute was something to be embraced after a particularly taxing day of serving his city, but really, it only seemed to remind him of how lonely his routine had become. 

It was easy to wonder what small anomaly it would take to derail an entire routine. A derailment, Taiga thought, would be a welcome change. 

Enter the passenger whose appearance came with a promise of the change Taiga was looking for. 

The first time he noticed that tuft of cotton-candy blue hair peeking out amidst the sea of arms and elbows and hands clinging to a prized piece of greasy, subway-car pole, he was already on track to someplace new, though he did not know it at the time. Curious, Taiga concentrated on the shock of hair that hinted of crystal clear skies that felt so remote during the gray, clouded tyranny of the winter months. Taiga didn’t allow his gaze to wander, and suddenly, that hair was rooted to a head, and to that head belonged a face. It was a pale, delicate face, though expressionless; “pretty” was the first word that came to Taiga’s mind, despite that the person appeared to be a man. 

The moment Taiga noticed the petite stranger with interesting hair and attractive features was when he also noticed that not many other people did. Days passed as he quietly observed the stranger with criminally low presence whose commute seemed to coincide with his own—for how long had they been riding the same train, sharing the same train car, during roughly the same time of day without him realizing? With the way he was treated, Taiga even began to wonder if the man was a ghost, which would explain why it took so long to notice him. Too often he was pushed around without so much as an apology thrown his way. New Yorkers may have been known for being rude, impatient people (and for the most part, Taiga could agree with that assumption), but it wasn’t unheard of to offer a simple “sorry,” especially when one person practically topples another person to the ground. Luckily, the day that happened, Taiga had been standing close enough to catch the cotton-candy man before he could lose his balance completely. Without thinking, his quick reflexes had him reaching out to brace the stranger’s shoulders, redirecting his fall so he instead fell back gently against Taiga’s chest. His frame was slight, almost fragile, but he was surprisingly warm and his soft, pastel hair tickled Taiga’s collarbone, and all this confirmed that he was indeed, quite corporeal. 

Embarrassed, the stranger was quick to detach from Taiga as he righted himself, and that was when Taiga realized he only came to about the height of his shoulders. The verbal exchange began with a simple “thank you” and ended with a “no problem,” with the additional “people should be more mindful of their surroundings,” spoken loudly but directed to no one in particular. But that was all, and Taiga let the silence hang between them too long, losing his chance to ask any of the number of questions he had been saving, so they simply went back to being two passengers who happened to share the same train car. Taiga screamed internally at this missed opportunity to finally get to know even a little more about the interesting stranger, but that was because at that the moment, he didn’t know another opportunity would come along soon enough. 

\- 

It was on a day during the early hours of the New York dinner time rush that Taiga was lucky to get a seat, the trains more recently stuffed to maximum capacity with people bundled in warm apparel attempting to escape the outside chill. As it was, he only needed his lighter-weight, black leather jacket to stay warm, so if he didn’t have so far to travel, he’d gladly brave the cold weather than be stuck underground, battling for an empty seat like it was resurrected holy turf. 

Taiga was situated alone in a two-seater, and while he couldn’t say he was usually rude or an adamant seat-hog, on that particular day, he didn’t feel much like sharing. So he equipped his massive, over-ear headphones and adjusted the volume to high, closed his eyes, and, donning his trademark, resting scowl, he sat with his arms crossed and his knees spread wide in blatant defiance of the public service campaign posters that reminded passengers to help “put an end to the manspread.” 

Besides, he may have liked to fantasize that the attractive stranger would one day appear close by, tired and juggling too many bags, and that was when Taiga would graciously offer the available seat next to him. 

Truthfully, though, Taiga didn’t have to try as hard as he did to repel other passengers from the allure of the narrow vacancy to his right. His tall stature and muscular build were normally enough to deter others from filling the open seat, and he wouldn’t deny that even his neutral resting face could be intimidating to some. 

He wasn’t sure what compelled him, but at one moment, he decided to crack an eye open to assess the current state of the train car, and that was when Taiga noticed a small, pale hand emerging from the crowd, waving around in attempt to reach the horizontal handrail suspended above his two-seater, but sadly grasping only at air. 

Then, it was as though instinct took over. Taiga found himself leaning forward, extending a strong arm and grasping the pathetic hand between his calloused palm and fingers. Ignoring the tiny electric sparks sent flying from his first, skin-to-skin contact with whom he hoped was the attractive stranger, he tugged the figure of the shorter man forward, pulling him out between two other bodies like a car squeezing through a pair of car wash rollers. 

Taiga’s grasp still lingering, the stranger was finally there in front of him, looking at him with a layered expression of surprise and recognition, and giving off an air of patience of someone willing to wait for an explanation. That explanation did not come immediately as Taiga could only return the look of surprise, frozen as though he had been caught committing a crime. 

He mouthed a few nonsensical words as his eyes wandered over the stranger and saw he was wearing a fairly simple outfit: khaki pants and a lightweight jacket over a white button-down, accented with blue to match the cheerful sky of his hair. An overstuffed messenger bag, also blue, hung from his shoulder, a few papers peeking out from the gap that formed from the front flap not being able to latch completely. And under one arm, held in the crook of his elbow—a basketball. 

Wait—what? Really? Was he seeing things? 

Finally, Taiga also realized he still had the stranger’s other arm uncomfortably taut with his hand imprisoned in his sweaty hold, and quickly released it as though he had been grasping at a live wire. 

“S-sorry!” he announced too loudly, belatedly thinking to pause his music, un-equip his headphones and rest them on his shoulders. “You just… looked like you could use some help… getting to the pole.” Feeling sheepish, Taiga became quieter with every word, until the last was almost a whisper. 

Just for a moment, a sympathetic smile flashed across the stranger’s face, until the train braked suddenly and he lurched forward, practically colliding with Taiga if it weren’t for the basketball he instinctively put between them. Taiga, also instinctively, had caught the ball with his palms, helping to the steady the man whose nose and lips were now inches away from his own. 

All of Taiga’s senses switched to high alert, a bolt of electricity surging through his body from toe to spine, raising the hairs on his nape as he sharply drew breath. The stranger did the opposite, exhaling a short, panicked puff of air that flooded Taiga’s nostrils with the undiluted scent of a half-chewed vanilla mint. As another bout of tension and awkward silence filled the now dangerously narrow space between them, Taiga’s fiery red eyes snapped up from soft, tempting pink lips and locked with stunning, azure blue. His face going awash with crimson, Taiga sensed he was taken to another plane of existence and back again, and momentarily, he swore he could count every bump of the textured ball under his tingling palms. 

The sequence of events occurred all in a matter of seconds, and after those seconds were over, Taiga recovered as fast as he would in any basketball game—maneuvering the ball and the adjoined stranger so that they both landed straight in the unoccupied seat next to him. His knees immediately snapped together to further accommodate the stranger with the ball now in his lap in the small amount of space he left in the two-seater. 

“Ah. Thank you.” The stranger blinked in disbelief, but still offered words of gratitude. “If I recall, though, this is not the first time you have acted as my savior during rush hour.” 

Taiga chuckled self-consciously. “Yeah I guess it’s not. You remember, huh?” 

“Well, you are hard to forget, and also hard to miss.” 

Taiga ran a hand through the short spikes of his red and black hair, a dull blush resurfacing on his cheeks. “Is that so? Well, I’d say the opposite for you—people don’t seem to notice you’re there. That’s why I… well, I just felt inclined to help, is all.” 

“It’s understandable. My friends have teased me many times about my lack of presence, saying that I’m practically a ghost. It’s not such a bad trait, really. It actually comes in quite handy when playing basketball,” the stranger reasoned. 

Taiga glanced down at the ball in the stranger’s lap. “So you really play, huh?” 

“I do. And you?” The stranger snuck a quick glance over at Taiga before quickly adding, “I mean, forgive me, but you look like you may be naturally inclined.” He smiled faintly. “And that move you performed earlier—you flawlessly dunked me into this seat. It was quite impressive.” 

“Ah! Well that, you see… I can explain…” Taiga continued to card through his hair to compensate for how completely awkward and inarticulate he felt. “That was just kind of automatic for me, really. I get a basketball in my hands and suddenly I just know what to do.” After dribbling around the actual the question, he then remembered to answer, “Yes! Definitely, yes. Basketball is my life, actually.” He huffed out a laugh, relieved to clear some of the tension with a statement that was finally effortless as breathing to admit. “Sorry, by the way, if I was too rough before. I didn’t mean to manhandle you.” 

“Not at all. I’m fine. And I’m glad to hear that my subway Guardian Angel is so passionate about basketball.” 

“W-wha—” 

“It would be nice to know his name.…” 

“Oh… uh. It’s Taiga. Taiga Kagami.” Without thinking, he was already extending a hand in greeting—the same hand he used to practically yank the other man’s arm out of it socket. The stranger, in turn, also responded with the same hand, digits wrapping around his own to offer a surprisingly firm handshake. 

“Mr. Kagami, then. Pleasure to meet you.” 

Suddenly, it was beginning to dawn on Taiga how strangely polite this person’s mannerisms were. 

“Tetsuya Kuroko.” 

“Huh?” Taiga was beginning to zone out from the sheer absurdity of what he originally hoped would be his ideal scenario. 

“My name,” the stranger, now Tetsuya Kuroko, said. “Your name, could it be—are you also Japanese?” He had suddenly transitioned languages to ask the particular question. 

“Oh, _hai_.” Taiga automatically answered in his native tongue; he was still caught up thinking how surreal this situation had become. 

“Perhaps ‘Kagami-kun’ is also fine, then.” 

“Sure, Kuroko.” Taiga decided in turn, bending to the absurdly formal nature of his new subway companion. He had also slipped back into Japanese with a frightening amount of ease. 

Suddenly, Taiga’s gaze returned to the ball sitting in Kuroko’s lap. “So, I didn’t get to ask—that ball. Are you off to play some street ball after work or something?” 

“Oh, well, I wasn’t planning to. Not today, anyway,” said Kuroko. “You see, this ball has a slightly special story behind it, Kagami-kun. My kids gave it to be today.” 

Taiga quirked a brow. “Kids?” He didn’t mean to sound so shocked, but his heart was already sinking to his stomach because he had completely overlooked the idea that this guy might not even be single. Sure, he had only ever seen him alone, and as far as he could see there was no wedding band on his finger, but the possibility was always there. Now the thought that he was already married with kids and just neglected to wear a ring was complete overkill, and already Taiga was preparing himself for the worst-case scenario. 

“Yes, I have fifteen of them.” 

“Fifteen!?” Taiga practically shrieked. His eyebrows were now fully raised and his eyes were bugged out of his skull because, ok, that was worse than the worst-case scenario. 

Then, Kuroko began to laugh heartily, hand moving to politely cover his mouth, and Taiga couldn’t decide whether to be mortified or awed by that melodic little laugh. It was a laugh that only angels were capable of reproducing and then, wow. Kuroko’s face was alight with mirth and the expression was so new and different compared to what Kagami had observed so far from this relatively poker-faced gentleman. 

“They are my students, Kagami-kun. I’m a kindergarten teacher.” 

What. 

“What? Oh. Wow, ok I am dumb.” Taiga faced-palmed, and it was as though he could feel the action take place frame by frame, because the whole world suddenly seemed so slow. 

“A reasonable misunderstanding, perhaps?” Kuroko offered sympathetically. 

“So your students got you a basketball? They must really like you,” Taiga pointed out, attempting to steer away from his idiocy. 

“I would like to imagine so, yes.” Kuroko smiled warmly, running his fingers over the orange, textured ball. “It seemed that when the children learned I love basketball, they secretly collaborated with my teaching assistant to get me this as a birthday present. Truthfully, most of the work may likely be credited to my assistant, though.” 

“Wow, well they really picked out a good-quality ball.” Taiga craned forward to get a better look at the ball, then absently traced his his fingertips over the bumpy texture as though he remembered an old friend, as though he longed for the days to be back on his local court, even though the amount of time since he last played was yet to be actually significant. “Wait.” He suddenly realized something. “Did you say… is today your actual…” 

“Yes, Kagami-kun. Today is my birthday.” 

“Wha—really? Happy birthday!” Taiga declared, too loud in English. 

Having heard, a few nearby passengers casually tossed their congratulations, while a few others, looking entertained, clapped in Taiga and Kuroko’s direction. Kuroko nodded politely, offering his thanks. 

Taiga coughed into his fist to hide his discomfort. “Um, so. It’s your birthday. Do you have any plans with friends tonight?” He didn’t exactly know what he was leading into, but he definitely wasn’t going to let this promising opportunity slip through his fingers. 

“Not really, all my friends are busy tonight. They promised me a real celebration this weekend, but we will see about that.…” Kuroko mentioned with a sad note of pessimism. 

“Wait, so you’re just heading straight home after work? Even though it’s your birthday?” 

“Well, I was planning to drop by the closest McDonald’s to my apartment for one, maybe two vanilla milkshakes. Other than that, yes, that was pretty much the plan, Kagami-kun.” 

“No way! I’m not going to let you be lonely on your birthday!” Taiga surprised even himself with this opposing declaration. “Is there a court near your place? Why don’t we break in that ball tonight so you can tell your kids tomorrow that you used it right away! Then, if you’re still interested, afterward I can treat you to those milkshakes.” He was already pumped at the thought of getting to play basketball—with his subway crush nonetheless—but he realized he might also be coming off as too forceful for what could technically be misconstrued as a date offer, maybe. 

Before Kagami had too much time to think about it, Kuroko’s answer was already, “Yes, that sounds nice, Kagami-kun.” 

“What? Really?” 

“Yes, Kagami-kun. I wasn’t all too committed to being home alone for my birthday. Your plan sounds much more appealing.” 

“Well, alright then!” Kagami pumped his fists with more enthusiasm than he should still have at the end of a workday. “So, what stop do we get off?” 

“Oh, actually…” Kuroko craned his neck to look over the sea of people and out the window, “we just passed it. I guess I was too absorbed in our conversation to notice.” 

“Is that so?” Taiga let out a throaty chuckle. 

“Well no matter. The next stop is also fairly close to the court nearest my apartment. It will make for a pleasant walk, Kagami-kun. Do you agree?” 

“I don’t mind, as long as you’re ok walking in this cold weather.” 

“Our game will get my blood pumping, so I’m sure I will feel warm in no time. Shall we then, Kagami-kun?” 

Kuroko got to his feet in preparation to exit the train at the next station, hoisting his bag higher on his shoulder and once more scooping the basketball up under his arm. Taiga followed suit and stood up next to him, once more proving the dramatic height-difference between the two of them. Just then, the train braked harshly and Kuroko lurched forward once again, having yet to secure himself on the handrail. Taiga was there in a flash, cradling one large hand around the smaller man’s waist, and resting the other on his shoulder, steadying him so he didn’t knock into anyone or anything. 

When Kuroko looked up at him, it was not with repeated surprise, but with an ambiguous expression that could be read as, “I’m not helpless, but I was prepared for you to catch me this time.” 

Then, what Kuroko actually voiced was, “Kagami-kun continues to show off his skilled reflexes. I hope I do not disappoint him on the basketball court.” He smiled. 

Kagami countered with a toothy grin, “I’m sure you won’t, but even if you do, you can always keep practicing. Plus, you said it yourself that your lack of presence really helps your basketball. I’m curious to see how.” 

“And I am curious to see how Kagami-kun will save my birthday from ruin. Kagami-kun has already acted as my guardian angel many times in the subway—I wish to see if he can live up to that reputation above ground.” 

“Oi! You keep sayin’ it, but I’m no angel!” Taiga laughed good-naturedly, proving his anger was in jest. 

God, this guy could say some pretty embarrassing things, though. 

As they exited the train car as newfound companions with a shared love for basketball, the doors closed behind them with the too-familiar chime. Ascending the steps from the shadowy tunnels of the subway to fading light of the surface world, Taiga truly hoped he could live up to any of the expectations Kuroko had already formed, so that maybe, a few good memories would be made, some good laughs would be shared, hopefully some phone numbers would be exchanged, and maybe, just maybe, his life would deviate from its current track, leading him down a route that was anything but routine. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m still not sure how it happened, but I was inspired at the last moment and cranked out this bonus fic in time for KagaKuro Week. I’m so proud, perhaps not for the quality but for the short amount of time it took to write, as I’ve never completed ~~anything~~ a story in only a few days before. Maybe it was just easier for me to write a story in which the setting is my home turf: New York City. :D
> 
> Since the story takes place in NYC, I opted to use Kagami’s first name, which was new for me, as well as the “first name, last name” dynamic when introducing characters. Given the setting, it just made more sense to me to take this approach. Also, please forgive any glaring mistakes, as I didn’t take the usual amount of time to edit this piece.


End file.
